The Lilies of Attolia
by Scottish Bluebell
Summary: Lily has always been quick to swap between personas to get what she wants. She is the daughter of the greatest of changeling, the king of Attolia who started as the thief of Eddis. She has been raised so she will one day be a queen who will have the tools she needs to rule, but she would much rather be the subtle puppet master lurking in the shadows. Rated T just in case.


The noise was far too bright for such a thing. Keys jingled as they shimmied into the lock, releasing the weighty iron door from the wall. It too sung in falsetto as it joined into the symphony that was the cell block. To her, even while it was just another step in the removal of her freedom, it was beautiful the way something so small could move something so determinedly cold and resolute. With a smile she relished the idea, licked her lips at the tasty connection and wondered if he had ever thought of it in that way. Though there were far greater things that had always been at stake when he had been lead off to such a place.

Before Costis thought to press her forward she strode forwards into the cell. Her smile dropped as the burly man stepped in after her and walked towards the wall. He didn't need to say a word; she had seen the long chains that attached to the far wall enough times to know his intended purpose.

"Must you, Costis?" her voice was a pleaful, exasperated whine. " I already gave Teleus all my tools!" As if to prove her point she gave a quick shake and her unpinned brown locks glistened in the lamp light as they whipped about her face. The wild tresses dropped back into place and clung to her tunic, and strands that had caught to her damp skin were swept back by a practiced hand. The noise brought on by her movement had indeed been devoid of any metallic clang. Her eyes narrowed ever so slightly as she thought of how easily Teleus had found her carefully concealed picks and skeleton keys that she had hidden in the double hem of her pale yellow tunic.

It was an unspoken agreement between her and the head of the guard that she would at least retain her dignity and not be searched. All he'd need do was reveal he knew her hiding place and she would hand over the contents with fiery eyes but without a spoken word. She'd always liked to think it had started with the first time, and not just a courteous because of his connection to her family. It all started when he'd tried to remove her boots. "You're not my blasted hangman now give me back my boots!" could be heard across the cell block and from then on both sides tread gently, in a careful dance where both partners feared the other letting go.

The thoughts melted away with the dull thud of the opening manacles. They were not at all musical and nor did they hold any beauty; they were the very embodiment of oppression and dreadful in every way that they were meant. Once the second was also hanging open on the bunk Costis turned to respond.

"I'm meant to be your guard little flower, not your gardener." His response was gentle and his voice seemed to be barely containing a laugh at the puzzling little creature. "And now you best not get started with your 'deals'. I have yet to see that cask of un-watered wine or that pretty girl you keep promising me."

Realizing she had lost she contented herself with staring convictingly into his eyes as he brought the metal cuffs up and clamped them soundly around her wrists. The rough metal somehow managed to bite down close against her thin wrists and the cold trappings soaked in the uncommon warmth of her skin.

With the final clasp in place, Costis turned to walk out and locked the cell door back into place. As his hand gripped the lantern handle he heard the chains rustling behind him.

"Costis," the word was without any of her previously cocky and whiny tones and he couldn't help but turn back to hear the final timid plea of the girl in the cell. "Please, could you leave the lamp? How can a flower be sustained without the light?"

She pressed up against the bars, chains dangling taut behind. Such soulful eyes she had, but their usual fire seemed stifled, like a candle being suffocated by a basket. All he could do was sigh.

"Know you nothing of lilies? The bulbs wait in the ground through the winter cold, and when the time is ripe, they push out from beneath the dirt and dust to bloom. Every little flower must first conquer the dark, before again meeting with the sun."

With one last glance he turned away and she watched as he walked away, taking with him the lay of the room. With the clunk of chains and a final sigh she laid her arms upon the stone bunk and curled her head within them, drifting away from the solemn cell, and into slumber.


End file.
